Between These Subtle Things
by CobaltBlue94
Summary: Quinn realizes that Rachel has always been there for her and that she probably always would be; because Rachel knew that the important moments in life are the subtle, seemingly insignificant ones that take you by surprise and eventually leave you filled with a peaceful sense of hope, the moments that lead you to everything you never knew you wanted. Rachel wants this for Quinn too.
1. First Name

Title: First Name

Author: CobaltBlue94 (aka H.J. Lewis)

Rating: Probably pretty PG, there's really no violence and I don't think there's any strong language in here.

Summary: After Rachel is slushied by a group of jocks and cheerleaders, Quinn sets out to get revenge for her new 'kind of' friend. Rachel doesn't exactly approve of her tactics.

Timeframe: Definitely sometime between the S3 Sectionals performance and Yes/No.

Warnings: There's no Finn-bashing per se, I'm not a huge fan of character-bashing in general, but this is definitely not a pro-Finchel fic. It's all for the Faberrians! Probably won't be precisely canon either.

Author's Note: This is just going to be a progression of one-shots detailing moments of Quinn and Rachel's friendship (and maybe more later).

* * *

**The** day actually started out pretty normal, which was strange for Quinn these days, considering how her life had been going recently. Although, her mother had been particularly easy to live with and amazingly supportive of her decisions since she'd stopped being such a psychopath—a part of her still credited Rachel for showing her the light.

She smiled at the thought as she fixed her mascara in the mirror of the bathroom. _Rachel_. She wasn't quite sure if they were '_friends_' friends yet, but she'd have been lying had she said that the pint-sized diva hadn't grown on her.

In a perfectly Twilight Zone-esque fashion, the aforementioned brunette burst into the bathroom. She was completely drenched in blue, green, and red slushies; her hair, face, top, skirt, and even her shoes were soggy with the icy corn syrup. Her eyes met Quinn in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, and she came to a sudden standstill, though her eyes seemed to continue shifting between anger, sorrow, and confusion.

Quinn, however, was just shocked. She knew that people were still throwing around slushies, but she'd had no idea that Rachel was still being hit so hard. She turned to face the soaked and sticky girl. "My God, Rachel," she breathed, looking the girl up and down. Her eyes connected with those brown orbs again, and this time she saw hostility and betrayal in them.

"Please, tell me. . . that you didn't have anything to do with th-this," Rachel pleaded as tears began to well in her eyes.

The blonde took a step back like she'd been slapped. "_What_? Of course I didn't!" Quinn took a few steps closer to the girl, and Rachel didn't back away. "Rachel, I haven't slushied _anyone_ this year, especially not you. I don't even have the kind of power to make that happen anymore. Santana- but, Santana wouldn't either. Well, maybe to Finn, but. . .."

Quinn grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and ran them under the faucet before turning back to Rachel. She looked at the girl cautiously. "Can I. . .?"

Rachel nodded hesitantly, and Quinn stepped forward to wipe the melting slush from Rachel's face. There was a weighted silence between them for a few minutes as Quinn continued to clean slush from every part of Rachel that she could reach without making the girl uncomfortable.

On the other hand, she herself was very uncomfortable. She couldn't recall ever standing this close to Rachel Berry, and now that she was, Quinn could see more than she ever had before.

The Roman nose that had always seemed to everyone like such a downfall, was really just a strong and striking feature up close. It seemed almost. . . kissable. _Whoa, hey! That is __**not**__ something that friends think about other friends!, _Quinn thought. But then her hazel eyes fell to Rachel's lips and she had to close her eyes and force her breathing to remain even, because they were just so. . . full and graceful, like the melodies that often fell from that mouth. _Kissable_, the thought echoed through her mind again. When Quinn's eyes fluttered open again, they looked directly into kind, soulful brown orbs.

Quinn cleared her throat and stepped away as soon as the last trace of slush was gone. "There's not much I can do about your hair, unless. . . I mean, if you want me to, I can wash it out in the sink," Quinn stumbled, cursing herself for the slip-up. "And. . . your, um, your clothes?"

"I have a change of clothes in my bag, and I can wash my hair out, but thank you," Rachel replied quickly. "It was very nice of you to help me."

Quinn leaned back against the sink, her mind swirling and making her dizzy. What had happened exactly? She couldn't remember there being _any_ slushie attacks since school had started. Sure, there'd been a food fight in the cafeteria and she herself had flicked a cigarette butt on a kerosene-drenched purple piano and Santana had slapped Finn across the face—**hard**— but no slushies being thrown. And who the hell would dare to hit Rachel? New Directions were closer now than they'd ever been and even Santana herself would have slapped the smirk off the attackers face had she seen what had happened. Not to mention what Quinn was now planning to do to the bastard who'd done it.

"Rachel," Quinn began, having to clench her teeth to fight the fury that was running through her now. "Who did this to you?"

"Um…" Rachel wringed out her hair and Quinn retrieved a towel from her gym bag to help. "The first one was Azimio, and I think the other three were Cheerios, that Cassie girl and her two ditzy lemmings?"

And suddenly Quinn's hands stopped wringing Rachel's hair out with the towel and froze. Rachel quickly glanced over her shoulder. "Quinn?"

"Azimio and _three_ cheerleaders did this to you?" Quinn hissed in a very feline-like manner. "So there was a grand total of four of them?"

"Y-yes," Rachel stuttered, slightly afraid of Quinn's wrath.

Noticing that she'd startled Rachel, and that the girl probably assumed her anger was directed at the brunette, Quinn reigned her face back to composure. "Don't be scared," she told Rachel, putting a hand on the diva's bare shoulder. "I'm not mad at you, Rach."

Rachel's jaw dropped and her eyes widened all of a sudden, a perfect look of genuine surprise.

"What?" Quinn asked cautiously, eyeing the girl.

"You called me 'Rach'," the girl stated.

"You don't like it when people call you that? Because I assumed with Finn and Kurt that—"

"No, Quinn, it's fine. It's just. . . you called me by my preferred nickname, a-and that's never happened before," Rachel cut in calmingly. She touched Quinn's arm cautiously, waiting for Quinn to pull away but she didn't.

Quinn's eyebrows drew together in perturbation. "Then maybe it should happen more often now," the blonde replied casually, turning to wash her hands in the red-stained sink.

. . . . .

Quinn watched her mother flit about their kitchen quickly and gracefully, like she'd been born to cook or something. She could remember watching her grandmother act the same way when she was young, and she was somewhat mesmerized by the poise that the Quinn women could exude. It made her wonder if she would have that same self-assured manner someday.

Things had been easier since her mother had left her father and vice versa. Their new house was smaller, but it had an open and spacious environment and a cozy atmosphere. Three bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, a quaint antique fireplace and just the two of them living there. It felt more like home than Quinn could ever remember her father's family manor feeling.

The blonde had become accustomed to her mother's bigotry and holier-than-thou ways growing up, but without the enforcement of her father, Quinn had discovered a whole new side to her mother. Behind the imposing figure that had been Russell Fabray, was a more open-minded and accepting Judy Quinn Fabray; a woman that her daughter could overtly respect and admire and idolize, a woman Quinn could relate to on a closer level.

Even when Quinn had come home one night, her hair dyed pink and piercings marring her lovely complexion, Judy had held her temper and they had talked about it reasonably. Silently, the two had agreed that 'this too shall pass' and gone on living their lives – but Quinn had to keep her grades within average and wasn't allowed to wear her lip or tongue piercings to their nightly dinners, because it honestly grossed Judy out.

"You're quiet tonight, sweetheart," the older blonde observed. "Did your day not go well?"

Quinn shrugged noncommittally. "It was. . . school," she finished lamely. "I went, I learned, I suffered through." She smirked at her mother, "You know, the usual."

Judy shared a knowing look with her daughter. "Well, _something_ is obviously weighing on your mind, Quinnie, but I suppose I'll let it alone and let you 'suffer through'."

Her mother had turned back to the stove before Quinn slowly asked, "Mom, . . . have you ever. . . felt a connection with someone? Someone that. . . you know you shouldn't feel connected to?"

Ms. Quinn fixed her daughter with a very serious stare. "Is this about those girls you were socializing with? Or a boy? Oh, please don't let it be another boy, Quinn-"

"No! Mom!" she yelled, mostly to regain her mother's panicked attention. "It's. . . it's not about a _boy_. . ." She looked up at her mother, silently praying to a God that was probably preparing her place Hell as they spoke, that her mom would just take the hint and they could get it over with. The older woman would kick her out and that would be that, it wasn't exactly like she wasn't capable of taking care of herself.

Realization overtook Judy's face and Quinn braced herself for the torrent that was sure to come; for the lectures and the bible recitations and the calling of Reverend Baxter to perform an exorcism. Out of the many scenarios Quinn's mind had developed over time, the reaction she got from her mother was not even close to what she expected.

Because her mother _smiled_, and not a finally-snapped psycho smile, but a real genuine – perhaps even proud – smile.

"Oh, sweetheart, how long have you been feeling this way?" the mother asked sympathetically.

Quinn shrugged again, not really wanting to admit (even to herself) that she had felt the connection since she'd known the person. "Awhile," she replied evenly. Her gaze finally lifted again to her mother's face, "You're not mad? Or, like, planning an exorcism or intervention or anything?"

Judy laughed as if this were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard, and Quinn had to admit to herself that it was pretty far-fetched. Even for her.

"Darling, you've always been a bit. . . _unorthodox_, at best," Judy stated plainly, "you've always learned things for yourself – trial and error, in order to discover what's best for you. But I'm your mother, and maybe I _haven't_ given you reason to trust me in the past, but how could I ever be angry at you for being honest with me? And with yourself?" A devilish grin came over Judy's face, "So does she feel this way too?"

Quinn looked down and began angrily picking at her nails. "She's already with someone, she's. . .." Quinn sighed. "It doesn't really matter."

Judy reached across the table and lifted her daughter's chin. "Darling, of course it matters."

. . . . .

The day after her moment with Quinn in the bathroom, Rachel was standing at her locker and talking with Kurt. Their topic of that morning involved planning a trip to the mall that Saturday for a complete revamp of Rachel's wardrobe, which was greatly needed; especially after Kurt had secretly persuaded her fathers into letting him go through her closet and toss anything that wasn't fashionable or held emotional value to Rachel. Not that her dads had really needed to be put up to it. All three of them had been itching to throw away several hideous outfits for years.

". . . and we'll be doing a lot of walking around the NYADA campus, if not New York itself, so you're going to have to have at least a _few_ pairs of jeans. The skirts and tights just won't do for a Manhattan winter," the boy went on, strategizing their list of apparel needs. "Besides, denim is making a huge comeback and it goes with virtually anything, so. . ."

The rest of his sentence, however, was lost to Rachel as she looked around the hallway just in time to see Cheerio Cassie and her sidekicks open their lockers synchronically, and have icy corn syrup fall onto them. They shrieked as their Cheerios uniforms began to stain with red, blue, and purple slushy.

Rachel glanced around her, just to make sure that everyone else in the hallway was witnessing the same thing and she wasn't just wishfully hallucinating. Then she caught sight of a head of short blonde hair, mischievous hazel eyes, and a satisfied smirk. Quinn nodded once to herself before starting down the hallway, her books clutched tightly to her chest.

The former HBIC paused briefly to regard the three livid and shivering girls with mock-sympathy. "Wow, guys, that must really suck," Quinn voiced, like she was truly horrified. Her voice turned mysterious and cool as she added, "You'll want to be more careful who you piss off from now on." Then, as if nothing had ever happened, the blonde continued down the corridor as the bell rang for first period.

. . . . .

That might have been the first incident of karma that Rachel's recent attackers faced, but it wasn't the last.

Rachel had walked into Pre-Calc, a class she shared with Tina, Mike, Mercedes, Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, and she was about to take a seat near the back, since someone else was sitting in hers, when Quinn grabbed her wrist and pulled Rachel into the vacant seat beside her.

"Hey," she said warmly, her face flushing just the slightest bit. "I know you've been sitting by yourself since your disagreement with Mercedes, but I thought you might like to sit with me today."

Taken aback, it was all Rachel could do to stutter out an, "O-okay. Sure."

As the rest of the class filed in, Rachel's mind began wandering to the blonde girl sitting next to her, and she had too many questions to contain. She looked over at Quinn to find the girl's hazel eyes staring right back, so Rachel blushed and ducked her head but kept her eyes on Quinn's gaze. "W-what?" she stammered nervously, noticing that the teacher had started the lesson.

Quinn gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "You don't have to be so nervous, you know," the blonde mumbled quietly, her hushed voice much more confident than the redness in her cheeks would imply. "We're 'kind of' friends, remember?" She took the hand that rested in Rachel's lap under the table and squeezed it, her gaze never leaving the brown eyes of her new 'friend'.

"I have a question," Rachel blurted suddenly, her voice nearly inaudible. Her first panicked impulse was to withdraw her hand from Quinn's grasp, but instead she squeezed the fair-haired girl's fingers to stop her own from shaking.

An amused but encouraging, radiant smile tugged at the corners of Quinn's rose petal lips. "Of course you do," she replied with a low chuckle. "What's your question?"

Before Rachel could do more than open her mouth and take a breath, the large figure of Azimio appeared in the doorway and the teacher stopped his lecture to say, "Ah. Mr. Adams, it's nice of you to grace us with your presence. What kept you from getting to my classroom on time today?"

Azimio didn't reply, but grumbled something unintelligible and slouched to his usual seat.

Rachel was about to return to her previous conversation with Quinn, but a loud _clang_ followed by a deafening _BOOM_ sounded, and everyone turned to see Azimio Adams sprawled on the floor with his chair in several pieces. Many of the students (especially Santana) laughed and snickered, and even Quinn had to hide and burst of laughter behind her hand. Azimio, looked around with a helpless and embarrassed look, and Rachel decided she had had enough.

"Knock it off!" she snapped at the class, standing abruptly from her chair. She walked over to Azimio and offered her hand out to help him up. As he accepted it, and she assisted in pulling him back to his feet, her steely gaze turned on the class again. "It's always funny when it isn't you, isn't it?" she growled out at them. "It's always funny when it's someone else, it's funny until _you_'re that someone else, then it's not so funny anymore."

She looked disdainfully around, meeting the gazes of the students in the class, pausing on Santana before finally allowing her stare to linger on Quinn. "You know, I thought we had all grown up a little bit in the past four years. I thought we had matured, gotten over our differences and our egos, grudgingly decided to ignore those of our classmates who we don't particularly like." Rachel's eyes bore into Quinn's. "I thought we had learned to get along, but apparently I was wrong."

Rachel then slung her bag over her shoulder, picked her books back up off the desk, and walked to the front of them room. She paused long enough to regard their teacher, "I'm very sorry for my outburst, Mr. Clendening. If you could e-mail me the notes from today's lesson, I would greatly appreciate that. I think I'll be spending the rest of the period in the library, if that's alright." She, however, did not wait for his response nor his permission as she silently exited the class.

Quinn bolted up from her seat and gathered her things, tossing a quick, "Sorry, Mr. Clendening, I'll get the notes from someone and have the homework done next class," over her shoulder before sprinting off after Rachel.

. . . . .

It was lucky for Quinn that she hadn't been out of the Cheerios so long that she was unaccustomed to running, because _man alive_! For a girl with such short legs, Rachel could move awfully fast without even needed to run. Quinn was quickly running out of breath before she turned a corner to find Rachel walking away from her.

"Rachel," she called after the brunette. "Rachel, wait! Rach!"

At the sound of her nickname, the brunette spun on her heel and glared at Quinn harshly. "DON'T!" she screamed, pointing her finger accusingly at Quinn as her footsteps carried her toward the blonde. When she was directly in front of a very shocked former-head Cheerio she hissed, "You don't get to pulled a stunt like that, after years of ridiculing and doing things _just like that_ to me, and then call me by my first name. You just don't, Fabray."

"Rachel, I," Quinn faltered, "I was trying to show Azimio and Cassie and those other _bimbos_ that I wouldn't let them mess with you. I was trying to show _you_ that I wouldn't let them mess with you! I was trying to defend _you_!"

"Well, I never asked you to defend me!" Rachel yelled loudly to Quinn's face. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have done like that," the brunette said in a quieter, defeated tone. She turned her brown head down so that her hair curtained her face. "I don't even know what would possess you to want to defend me in the first place."

When Quinn stopped to think about it, she had to admit that it really was a pretty stupid idea. She had tried to defend Rachel in the same way that she had _attacked_ Rachel all these years, so of course the tiny brunette wouldn't have wanted to get revenge that way. _I should have just blacked out their windshields with glass paint, let the air out of their tires, and covered their cars in corn syrup,_ Quinn thought in retrospect_. Next time._

Rachel sighed heavily and went to sit on a bench in the hallway, and Quinn sighed and followed her. She reached out her hand and left it sitting palm-up on her knee closest to Rachel.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Quinn told her earnestly. "I didn't think. I guess that's kind of my issue, I just. . . I don't _think_. When I feel threatened, all I do is act, it's what I've always done."

The brunette turned her eyes on Quinn. "What was your excuse for me?" she asked in a guarded, still-hostile tone.

"The same," the blonde replied simply.

Rachel quirked an eyebrow, and Quinn almost smiled at the thought of where her brunette friend could have _possibly_ picked up that mannerism. "You felt threatened even by _me?_" she asked dubiously.

Quinn sighed again and shook her head to clear it, picking up her 'kind of' friend's hand. "Rachel, I felt threatened _especially_ by you," Quinn admitted finally. Her eyes scanned the smaller girl and another coy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I mean, you're intelligent, you're not afraid to be exactly who you are, you don't let anyone tell you what you can or can't do, you've got the voice of an angel, and you're an _truly __**incredible**_ actress. Rach, you're talented and you're bright and you're destined to make it out of this loser-town and into the lights of a Broadway stage. You had everything going for you, you _have_ everything going for you. And I was _so_ jealous."

"So what changed?" Rachel questioned more passively.

"You changed me," Quinn confessed honestly. At Rachel's lost expression, she added, "After everything I'd done to you, even when everyone else had given up on me. . . you didn't, Rachel. You came to me and you tried to bring me back, you. . . believed in me, and you stopped me from doing something I would regret the last time I acted without thinking." Offhandedly she added, "You kind of saved me from myself."

Rachel sighed and shook her head, bring her free hand up to run her fingers through her hair. "Look, I'm not condoning what you did to Azimio and those Cheerios," she began hesitantly, "but I'm grateful that you wanted to stand up for me, instead of standing against me. I'm really honored to be someone that you care enough about to do something like that, even if it wasn't exactly the right way to go about it." Rachel stood up and looked down to where Quinn remained seated.

"So. . ." Quinn began hopefully, "does this mean we're still friends?"

The diva smirked down at her. "Kind of," Rachel repeated ironically. She reached out her hand to Quinn, and pulled her to her feet when the blonde accepted it.

The two began walking down the hallway together, both of their respective arms around their books, but they walked close to one another. Quinn brushed her shoulder against Rachel's and Rachel bumped Quinn to the side with hers.

"So," the blonde began again, "were you serious about not wanting me to call you 'Rach'?"

Rachel looked sideways at her and shrugging noncommittally. "Well, it would be weird if you suddenly started calling me 'Berry' and 'Manhands' again," she reasoned.

"So I can call you 'Rachel'?" the blonde pressed, tone nearing impatient.

"My first name would be fine, Quinn," the tiny girl answered with a laugh. "And you can call me 'Rach' any time you like."

"Rachel."

"Yeah?"

"Nothing," the blonde replied, shifting her books to one side so she could wrap her arm around her friend's shoulders. "I was just practicing using your first name. I have a feeling I'll be saying it a lot."

* * *

**So I'm not particularly thrilled with the ending, but I think it brings it to a decent close and hopefully I'll get better at my end-scenes. Thanks for reading and I encourage you to hit that review button. Reviews= Love. Love= More chapters.**


	2. Crazy Dreams

Title: Crazy Dreams

Author: CobaltBlue94 (aka H.J. Lewis)

Rating: PG; just for language and the sort

Summary: After another meeting with Pendleton's aspiring-NYADA group, Rachel's confidence in her talents are shaken.

* * *

**Rachel** felt cold, although it was still reasonably warm outside for an Ohio November. Every nerve in her body buzzed, but not in the excited that they did when she was about to perform; no, this was almost a numbing buzz that made her stomach churn and her mind slow.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could faintly register that Mr. Schuester had come in and begun talking about their assignment that week. Before last night, Rachel had prepared an entire, (what she had believed at the time to be) spectacular performance, but it seemed mediocre and lackluster after the NYADA group's showstopper the night before.

"Rachel."

The sound of her name drew her back to the icy reality, and she looked at Mr. Schue with dull, questioning eyes.

Somewhat bewildered, Mr. Schuester stepped aside to reveal the ebony piano to her. "Didn't you say you'd prepared something?" he asked her encouragingly. His smile was genuine and his intentions were clearly good, but the idea of performing for her friends in glee club lacked the comfort and appeal that it had always held.

"If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Schuester," Rachel began in a small voice, "I'd actually rather not today."

The appalled faces of her fellow glee clubbers was not lost on Rachel, she knew that they expected a dazzling, albeit smug and annoying, piece of music from her. She didn't care though, she didn't have it in her that day and she was starting to wonder if she had it in her at all.

Brow furrowed, Mr. Schuester looked at her and asked, "Are you losing your voice again?"

"No, I just do not wish to sing today," she snapped a bit harshly. Rachel was on her feet in the next second, her bag thrown over her shoulder, and she strode across the room toward the door. She turned back before she exited and looked at her friends. "I'm sorry if I've disappointed any of you. I truly am." With that, she left the room before bursting into tears as she ran down the hallway toward the girls' restroom.

…

**Quinn** looked around at everyone else, frozen in their seats. They'd seen many Rachel Berry diva-storm outs, but this was different, because Rachel hadn't stormed this time—she'd shuffled in a distinctively dejected manner. Which was just _so __**not**_ Rachel Berry.

She was the first one to her feet, ready and intent on following after Rachel, while the others were still too shell-shocked to even begin to grasp the situation.

The hallways of McKinley High were completely deserted, people were either in their activities or classes or hanging out in the library or parking lot in their free period. They were lucky too, Quinn mused, because if any of them had been in her path right now, (whether Rachel approved or not) she would have relapsed into her HBIC ways and ploughed right over them without a second thought. There was only one person who she was concerned with at the moment, and that person could only be found on the second-floor, foreign language-wing bathroom in the first stall.

"Rachel?" she called as she pushed the door open, revealing the absolute _last_ thing she ever wanted to see.

Rachel Berry cornered by The Skanks.

Their leader and Quinn's ex-crony, The Mack, had a grip on Rachel's shirt-collar and was yelling into her face. However, she turned to glare at Quinn, and a mirthless smile spread across her face when she recognized the blonde.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Little Miss Two-Face Traitor, herself," the tough girl crooned. "See you slouched back to your blonde hair, straight-A, girly-girl dress-wearing, wimp-ass ways. Still trying to impress the chick you gave your bastard brat to? Or how about showing this deranged, 'all-that' Broadway-wannabe?—"

A second later Quinn had grabbed handfuls of The Mack's shirt and thrown her to the tiled floor. Quinn saw both Ronnie and Sheila come at her but the twin fires that blazed in her hazel eyes and the low, wild growl that tore from her throat were enough to make even them think twice.

Quinn stepped forward, pushing Rachel safely behind her and shielding her from The Skanks. The blonde hauled Mack up by the front of her shirt before slamming the grungy teen into the bathroom wall.  
"If I _**ever**_ hear you mention my child or Rachel,"—she tightened her grasp around Mack's neck—"if you so much as breathe a word about Ms. Corcoran or Beth, or _look_ at Rachel the wrong way, this little encounter will look like a tea party compared to what I'll do next time, _**got it**_?" The defiant look on her former-accomplice's face told Quinn that the girl had gotten her message.

Still keeping herself protectively between the tiny diva and The Skanks, Quinn whirled and shoved The Mack toward the bathroom door. "Good. Don't let the door hit any of your asses on the way out," she spat, looking pointedly at the two other girls.

The blonde's arms stayed out at her sides, holding Rachel behind her, until the door closed and she could no longer hear Sheila's shrieks on the other side, and even then there was a moment when Quinn let go of a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"You didn't have to do that, Quinn," a small voice whispered just before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and faced Rachel, and the diva's mouth drew up on one side in a hesitant half-smile, "But this time I'm actually kind of glad you did."—She embarrassedly looked down at her ballet flat-clad feet— "Those girls kind of scare me."

Quinn 'hmmph'ed and pulled herself up onto the bathroom sink counter. She tangled her hands in her own hair, trying to release some of her anger and rage. She needed something to distract her, so she looked at Rachel and asked, "Did I ever scare you? When I was like that?"

The brunette's face was decidedly pensive, and Quinn swore it was one of the cutest things ever. _Don't go there_, she told herself silently, _Remember your safe-zones, work on your friendship with her._ But there was no ignoring how much Rachel's appearance had changed since sophomore year.

Her toddler-crossed-with-grandma fashion sense had been greatly improved (mostly because of Kurt's notorious habit of revamping wardrobes without prior consent of the person to whom the wardrobe belonged), and her white, ruffled v-neck dress, black skinny jeans and ballet flats fit together with a modern yet elegant simplicity. She'd even ditched the atrocious '90's style bangs that hid her expressive brown eyes and finally learned how to apply her make-up just perfectly. Rachel was different. They both were.

"You've always scared me, Quinn," Rachel replied finally, "but not for the same reason that The Skanks do. The Skanks could only ever do me bodily harm, and I would heal from that. You could do so, _so_ much more damage, especially now." Seeing Quinn was about to protest, she added firmly, "But I trust you not to."

Quinn nodded, and then remembered why she was here in the first place. "I came to see if you were okay. I've never seen you _not_ want to perform. It's a little disconcerting, you know." Quinn was trying to joke around with Rachel, but clearly the diva was not in a humorous mood.

"What happened?" Quinn inquired more seriously. "Besides what I just walked in on."

The brunette shrugged her shoulders, but Quinn could hear a sniffle from where Rachel's head was turned down. "Rach, c'mere."

Rachel stepped in front of where Quinn was still sitting on the counter and the blonde ran her graceful fingers through locks of dark chestnut hair to hold the diva's face up. Their eyes connected and, for a moment, Quinn thought about withdrawing her hands, but something inside of her told her not to. Rachel was upset about something, and she was going to do everything to prove to the brunette that Quinn deserved her friendship.

"What happened?" she repeated, running her fingers through Rachel's hair again and pushing it back from the smaller girl's devastated face and watery eyes.

"The NYADA mixer," Rachel mumbled. "There are _so_ many talented people, and they're all aspiring to get to New York too." If Quinn hadn't been holding her face, she knew Rachel would have been looking down again. "Many much more talented than me." A sob broke from Rachel's throat, and Quinn automatically brought the girl closer and held her tightly.

"That's not even possible," she whispered, tucking Rachel's head under her chin and cradling her upper-body. "Rachel, maybe they _are_ talented and maybe they've won a couple awards or pulled off a few good shows. But none of them have your drive, none of them crave the lights of a Broadway stage the way that you do. They didn't defy the status quos of a high school hierarchy and bring together hostile jocks and deranged cheerleaders to join a five-member, rag-tag glee club of outcasts and turn them into a National competing show choir. But _you_ did.  
"You did the impossible, Rachel," Quinn told her earnestly. "That counts for something."

Rachel laugh tearily. "Quinn, you make it sound like I walked on water or something."

Quinn released the brunette just long enough to jump down from the counter before wrapping Rachel up in her arms again. "You've always been all about beating the odds, Rachel Berry. No matter what anyone said, you always knew who you were and who you wanted to be, and you stuck to that. So you'll beat the odds again, and you'll get into NYADA and you _will_ be on that stage someday."

Shaking her head dubiously, Rachel argued, "Even if you're right- which I'm neither confirming nor denying- it's still a long shot that I'll get in. And the chances of me making a name for myself on that stage is little more than just a crazy dream. There are hundreds of other people who want exactly what I do, what sets me aside from all of them?"

The blonde slung an arm around her shoulders, hugging her tightly for a moment before pulling her out of the bathroom, out of McKinley, and out into the cool November afternoon.

. . .

Puck jumped about four feet when his locker slammed shut, only to reveal Quinn standing there with her arms folded across her chest and an expectant look on her face.

"What?" Puck sputtered, looking around wildly. "Where- where did you come from?" It never ceased to scare the shit out of him how stealthy his ex-girlfriend could be. Q was like a freaking ninja or something.

"I need your help," Quinn told him, ignoring his previous questions completely.

The Jewish boy groaned and let his hand fall against the row of lockers. "If this is about Shelby and Beth-" he began.

"It's not," Quinn interrupted him. "It's about Rachel, and this new, delusional lack of self-confidence she's developed in her talent."

"Yeah?" Puck demanded impatiently. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at his petulance. "There's a song I wanna sing to her in glee, but I need you to back me up on guitar," she explained flatly. "Think you can manage that?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Puck answered bewilderedly. "What song?"

. . . . .

"Alright, guys!" Mr. Schue began, clapping his hands together as he walked into the choir room with his usual gusto. All the gleeks took there self-designated spots and Shelby perched on the piano bench next to Brad as Schue continued, "We've got a surprise number today." He looked to the two performers, "Quinn? Puck?"

Puck swaggered over and picked up his guitar from a stand as Quinn took to the center of the floor and looked at her teammates. The Mohawked boy came to stand next to her as she began to speak.

"Guys, we've had some pretty crazy times over the last two and half years," Quinn said, her gaze flickered over to Rachel as she went on. "A lot has changed in that time, but there's one thing that we've always been able to count on: us, this club, being here to comfort and support each other no matter what the conditions are.

"I've made more mistakes than probably anyone else in here. I've been awful and hurt people who had never done anything to deserve it, and I've probably made all of you feel inferior at one point or another. So I'd like to say I'm sorry," she looked behind her at Shelby as she added, "really sorry- for everything I've done to hurt any of you." She regarded her friends with a warm, grateful smile. "And I want to thank you, for supporting me even when a lot of you probably wanted to just let me fall flat on my face. I don't know what I would have done without you guys, and I'm also sorry for how I acted earlier this year."

She sighed and carried on with a lighter tone. "There's a lot of us in here who won't be next year, and we're scared, but that's okay. Because we can be scared _together_. Because we have one another to remind us that we're not alone, that nothing is hopeless or impossible, that we shouldn't give up our dreams because someone else made us feel inferior." Her gaze locked onto Rachel's and she approached the girl slowly. "I know you had a pretty crappy night at the NYADA mixer, Rachel, so this is to remind you of why we all know you're destined for stardom."

Puck picked up a plucky tune on his guitar and Quinn began bobbing her head and tapping her fingers against her leg in time with the beat as she opened up her mouth to sing.

_"Hello you long-shots,_

_You dark horse runners,_

_Hairbrush-singers and _

_Dashboard drummers._

_Hello you wild magnolias,_

_Just waiting to bloo-oo-oom"_

Quinn grinned cunningly at all of her friends on the tiers of the choir room, and they smiled back, as she continued to sing,

_"There's a little bit of all that inside of me and you,_

_Thank God even crazy dreams come true. . ."_

If Quinn had had any reservations about singing this song in front of her friends before, they faded as she launched into the next verse soulfully.

_"I've stood at the bottom of some walls, I thought I couldn't climb. . ." _

She picked an imaginary dance partner and began a showy, exaggerated waltz complete with jazz hands. _"I've felt like Cinderella at the ball, just running out of time. . ."_

Quinn stopped dancing dramatically and came to stand directly in front of Rachel.

_"So I know how it feels to be afraid,_

_And think that it's all gonna slip away._

_Hold on. . . ho- old o-on"_

The blonde resumed her head bobbing, but her entire body bobbed along with the music now as well and the beat picked up again.

_"Here's to you free souls, you firefly chasers,"_ Quinn began running up the tiers and grabbed Tina's hand.

_"Tree climbers, porch swingers, air guitar players,_

_Here's to you fearless dancers, shaking walls in your bedrooms. . ." _She gathered both Mike and Brittany and, along with Tina, dragged them all onto the floor to dance with her as she continued.

_"There's a lot of wonder let inside of me and you,_

_Thank God even crazy dreams come true. . ."_

As the song slowed for a moment, Quinn dropped into the vacant seat next to Rachel and looked meaningfully at her, the melody flowing from her lips directed solely to the wide-eyed brunette.

_"Never let a bad day be enough,_

_To go and talk you into giving up._

_Sometimes everybody feels like you,_

_Oh, feels like you,_

_Just like you ooh-ooh ooh. . . _

_Yeah!"_

As Puck's guitar solo came in, Quinn leapt up and went to dance back-to-back with the boy as he did his best to rock out the very twangy country song. When Puck's solo ended, Quinn went to stand in the middle of the room again, and Mike, Tina, and Brittany danced freestyle around her, while nearly everyone else was out of their seats and dancing on the tiers. Quinn pointed to specific people as she sang the next lines.

_"I've met some go-getters" _she hooked her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Puck conspiratorially.

_"Some difference makers,"_ she pointed to Kurt.

_"Small-town heroes," _she gestured to Sam.

_"Big chance takers_," she pulled Blaine out onto the floor.

Then she went more slowly toward Santana and looked her meaningfully in the eye, taking both of her hands.

_"I've met some young hearts, with something to prove_. . ." When Santana smiled, Quinn pulled her onto the dance floor and spun her out in the direction of Brittany.

_"Oh, ye-ah!"_

The carefree blonde was now pulling everyone from their seats, until almost everyone was dancing along with her, grooving out and not worrying whether or not they looked ridiculous.

_"Here's to you long-shots,_

_You dark horse runners,_

_Hairbrush singers and,_

_Dashboard drummers. . ."_

Quinn walked over to Rachel again, took her hands, and elegantly pulled the girl to her feet.

_"Here's to you wild magnolias,_

_Just waiting to blo-oo-oom. . ._

_There's a little bit of all that inside of me and you,_

_Thank God even crazy dreams come true,_

_Thank God even crazy dreams co-o-ome. . ."_

Rachel beamed and picked up the end of the song with her, _"True. . . yeah!_"

Elated Quinn danced and spun to the final measures, all the while keeping a hold on Rachel's hand. The brunette was smiling so widely that Quinn thought the rest of her features would have to disappear for her face to accommodate it, and Rachel looked footloose and fancy-free, light as a bird, for the first time in days.

As the last chord faded out, everyone cheered and whooped and celebrated in excitement. Except Rachel, who stood still to really look at Quinn for the first time since watching her perform. She had tears in her eyes as she gazed at the blonde's face in wonderment.

"Thank you," she choked out breathlessly, "thank you so much, Quinn."

Quinn shook her head, too happy at seeing Rachel's smile to even respond with anything except, "Come here, Berry." She embraced the girl in the tightest of hugs, as all their friends looked on. Quinn's main focus was on the girl who was obviously crying into her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes at the 'aww's and wolf whistles that sounded, before grudgingly shouting, "Alright, everybody in! Group hug, I guess." Everybody packed in together, smiling and laughing, and humming or singing bars from various songs.

_This_, Quinn thought_, this is what I've really wanted all along._ She looked at Rachel as the girl lifted her head from Quinn's shoulder. _Definitely._

_. . . . . _

Quinn was walking to her car after glee, still smiling and humming to herself as she heard her friends calling after each other as they skipped to their cars. A strange, warm, comfortable light-heartedness had settled over her and her teammates after her song. It was one of those performances that brought them all closer together, if only for awhile. Quinn was proud to have had the courage to sing in front of her friends, and to be the one who had brought about this feeling of unity.

She noticed a figure, leaning against her car as she continued her walk through the car park, and she recognized the person immediately. Her smile only grew bigger as the person turned her head to look at Quinn as the blonde approached.

"Hey," Quinn greeted her brightly as she reached her car. She opened the door to the backseat on the drivers' side and threw her bag and other belongings in. When she turned back to Rachel, the girl had a funny look on her face that made Quinn feel self-conscious. "What?" she chuckled nervously.

"You leave your doors unlocked while you're in school?" Rachel demanded, as if this were the most outrageous thing in the world. "That's very risky, Quinn. Anyone could climb into your backseat and hide, waiting to do horrible, unthinkable things to you."

Quinn was about to laugh, but the look of complete seriousness on Rachel's face stopped her. She turned serious. "You're right. I'll start locking my door from now on," she said, having no intentions of doing so. She had left her doors unlocked for the past two and a half years and nothing bad had ever happened, so she was pretty sure she was safe.

"So, I'm thinking that you weren't waiting for me by my car to explain the dangers of leaving my doors unlocked," Quinn prompted playfully as she came to lean against her hood beside Rachel.

"No," Rachel said slowly, her face a look of perfect pensiveness. "Actually, I came to ask you. . . why?"

"Why what?" she asked automatically, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. The blonde had to remind herself that patience was not only a virtue but also a necessity in becoming friends with Rachel Berry, so she counted backwards from five.

Rachel looked nervous and reluctant, shuffling her feet incessantly and fidgeting with her hands. Quinn reached one of her own hands over and easily covered both of the brunette's to prevent Rachel from rubbing yet another layer of skin off her palms. She looked at the smaller girl guiltily.

"Rach, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I realize that I'm not the most patient person, but I'm working on it," Quinn apologized. Her hazel eyes softened even more, "You know that you can tell me anything. I'm not going to laugh or get angry or judge you or hold anything you say against you. I promise."

The brunette's chocolate brown gaze searched Quinn's countenance for any sign of deception, but she found none; all she found was just an eagerness for Rachel to trust her, and Rachel found that she did. Implicitly so, even.

She had always seen something good in Quinn, hiding just below the blonde's distant and distrusting exterior, something she liked and wanted to explore more thoroughly; and now that she had found that something, or rather, some_one_, she felt an unrivaled affection and protectiveness over Quinn and their newfound friendship. She loved this girl who stood before her, begging Rachel to confide and put a little faith in her.

"What I wanted to know was. . ." Rachel started to clarify carefully. "Why. . . did you choose to sing me a song. . . in glee? I know how sensitive you are about your social status, and you're just returning to your normal higher-ranking in the high school hierarchy, so why risk that. . . to help me? Unless that was not your intent," the petite girl hastened to say. "I apologized for my presumptuousness if I am incorrect in my assumption that you did it for me—"

Quinn reached out and touched the girl's wrist to get her attention, before she gave herself an aneurysm trying to figure it out. She laughed softly, looking into Rachel's worried eyes. "Rachel, it _was_ for you, and I told the entire glee club that it was before I sang it," she reminded her friend. Quinn jumped up to sit on the hood of her car and patted the spot next to her for Rachel to sit as well. "I sang you that song because you were so upset after you went to the NYADA mixer the other night, you seemed so hopeless and I didn't like seeing you that way."

Rachel nodded her head and looked down in disappointment. "I see," she muttered. "You sang me that song because you pitied me. I get it."

"No!" Quinn insisted vehemently, grasping Rachel's hands and causing the brunette to look her in the face. "Rachel, I sang to you because you mean so much to me that it hurts to see you upset. I don't ever want you to give up on your dreams, Rach; they're what make you who you are: someone who inspires me to be more than what I ever believed I could be. Someone who _pushes_ and challenges _everyone_ around her to reach their potential."

"Wow," Rachel breathed, looking at the ground in front of them, but not pulling away from Quinn. "When did you start thinking so much of me?"

Quinn thought about it for a moment before answering. "I think I've always thought this much of you, Rachel. I've told you, I was just always so jealous and _annoyed_ by how talented and confident you were, that I tried to tear you down and I'm truly sorry for that, Rach."

Rachel covered Quinn's hand that held hers with her other one. "So. . . what changed? I mean, I know you've told me parts of it already, but. . . What made you stop? If it's okay that I ask."

"Of course it's okay, I owe you that much," Quinn began.

"You don't owe me anything, Quinn. Anything you choose to give me is entirely up to you, you're not obligated in any way. I want you to know that," Rachel told her determinedly. "I just. . . I just want us to be friends because you _want_ to be my friend, not because you feel like you owe me anything."

Another warm smile turned Quinn's face into a miniature sun. "I'd like that, but I do think you deserve an explanation," she reasoned. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "This summer. . . I realized a lot about myself and I was scared of it. And I think. . ."

Quinn looked out at the way the afternoon sun brightened the world around them. "It's like that 'in hindsight' thing. Like once you figure something out, everything becomes _so_ clear all of a sudden, and it's overwhelming. So I shut down and I joined the Skanks and I tried to forget, except you wouldn't let me." She smiled at Rachel affectionately. "When Shelby and Beth came back, it was like my world had turned upside down, and I lashed out. I would have ruined both Beth _and_ Shelby's lives, if you hadn't stopped me. Somehow, you were the only one who got through my thick skull and made me see reason."

There was a brief moment of silence, before Quinn said the words that shook Rachel to her very essence.

"You didn't give up on me, and I realized then that you never had," the blonde murmured softly, as if she were telling Rachel a secret. Rachel turned her head to look at Quinn, and their eyes locked. "You cared about me even when I was about to do this horrible thing. You cared about me after I had done so many horrible things to you, and to everyone else. You cared and you never gave up, and you were the only one who was determined to believe that I wasn't a lost cause."

"Because you weren't," Rachel told her firmly. She turned her body to face Quinn more directly, "Quinn, do you remember prom last year? I told you that you were the prettiest girl I'd ever met, a-and that's still true of course, but you are _so_- much- more- than that. And this person that you are, the one who sang me that song in front of everyone earlier, _this_ is what I meant."

Quinn ducked her head and chuckled under her breath. "You saw right through me, didn't you?" She turned her head sideways to regard Rachel, who smiled.

"No, not at first," she answered, "but I saw the look in your eyes, when you hurt me. You felt remorse, some part of you regretted it. That was when I knew that 'Head Cheerleader Quinn Fabray' was just a mask, and I wanted to know that person underneath it. Now I do." Rachel smiled her shy smile, the one she had worn that day in the office when she asked Quinn if they were 'kind of friends'.

Rachel hesitantly rested her head on Quinn's shoulder and the blonde leaned into her, entwining their fingers. It was comfortable, Rachel realized. Her head fit perfectly into the crook of Quinn's shoulder and neck without Quinn having to slouch in order to accommodate her in any way. It was easy and effortless for their fingers to lace together, the spaces between their respective fingers fitting perfectly to the other girl's hand. It should have been awkward after everything that had happened between them in the past two years, but it wasn't; in fact, it felt as natural as breathing.

"Hey, Quinn?"

"Yeah, Rach?"

"Thanks for finally being my friend."

"Thank you for teaching me how to be, and for never giving up the offer."

"I wouldn't have dreamt of it."

* * *

*** The other song that Quinn sings is "Crazy Dreams" by Miss Carrie Underwood (don't judge me for my love of country!)**


	3. For The First Time pt 1

**Title: For The First Time**

**Author: CobaltBlue94 **

**Summary: The first time that Rachel invites Quinn over to her house, nothing turns out as expected.**

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews I've been getting, fellas! It's really encouraging, even if I can't update as often as I would like to.**

_::~::_

_Smiling but we're close to tears_

_Even after all these years_

_We just now got the feeling that we're meeting_

_For the first time_

_::~::_

_**"Good Morning, Quinn!" a voice**_ chirped from behind Quinn early that Wednesday, causing Quinn to wince.

It was the second-to-final day of the week before a long weekend and Quinn already felt physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted from all the events of the last month. Glee Club was training extra hard for Regionals, even if they still had eight more weeks before competition, her hand had permanently cramped from filling out college applications and writing essays, and she swore that the next person who so much as _looked_ at Rachel the wrong way was going to get her fist in their face (even if it was Finn).

The blonde didn't bother to force a false smile on her face when she turned around, but the sight of Rachel's cheery face caused the corners of her mouth to tug upward involuntarily. She liked how she didn't feel the need to be 'okay' around the brunette, and how Rachel somehow made her feel that way anyway.

"Hi," Quinn returned amusedly. "You're awfully chipper this morning."

She hadn't meant it as an insult, but it was apparent from the way that Rachel's face fell that it had been taken as such. "I apologize, Quinn, I'll not bother you now," the pint-sized diva mumbled, turning away.

"Hey, wait! No, Rachel, that wasn't how I meant it," Quinn hastened to say, catching the young actress's hand. Rachel stopped and looked back to the blonde, who held her hand welcomingly. "I'm glad to see you happy, Rach. It's just been a long week, that's all."

"I don't mean to make it worse," Rachel replied, face to the ground.

"You don't," Quinn said simply. "Actually, you make it better. I need a little 'happy' right now." She beamed when Rachel smiled hopefully, and swung their enjoined hands. "So what's up?"

Rachel's face grew uncharacteristically nervous, and she released Quinn's hand to fidget with her own. "Um, well. . . I was wondering. . . and you don't have to, of course, but. . .." Rachel sighed and just spit it out. "Whatareyoudoingtomorrownight ?"

By some small miracle, Quinn managed to comprehend what her friend was asking her. She chuckled at the brunette's obvious apprehension. "I'm not doing anything tomorrow night," she answered, smiling and looping her arm through Rachel's as they walked through the hall together. "Did you have something in mind?"

Rachel nodded sharply once. "My fathers have asked me to invite you to dinner tomorrow, and have taken it upon themselves to ask your mother as well," she explained slowly (well, slowly _for her_ anyway). "However, you can say no if it would make you uncomfortable."

Quinn laughed. "Dinner sounds interesting," she replied in all honesty. "But why would it make me uncomfortable?"

Gaze locked timidly on the off-white floor tiles of the hallway, Rachel shrugged while avoiding Quinn's eyes and mumbling something like, "I don't know."

Without giving much thought, Quinn pulled Rachel's face up with her finger to look at her. "It's just dinner, everything will be fine."

. . .

_**"It is so **__not __**just**_ _**dinner!"**_ Quinn yelled as she flung clothes from her wardrobe onto her bed with rapid succession.

Judy stood in the doorway, pursing her lips in an attempt to not smirk in amusement at her daughter's palpable nervousness. "Breathe, sweetheart," the older woman reminded her daughter, in a voice that made it apparent that this was not the first reminder she had given. "I'm sure everything will be fine, although I was quite surprised that Hiram and Leroy invited us to dinner to graciously all of a sudden."

"Mom, these are. _Rachel's. fathers_!" Quinn practically screamed, enunciating each word to drive her point. "I mean, it's enough that it's _Rachel_, but now it's her _fathers_ too." The sound of her mother's laughter outside of Quinn's closet caused the girl to stick her head out and glare at her older counterpart. "Why are you laughing? Mo-om! This _so_ isn't funny!" she whined.

Judy clutched the doorframe for support as she swiped at her face. "I'm sorry, darling, it's just . . .. _How_ could I have overlooked this?" she questioned more to herself. She smiled at Quinn as she finally said knowingly, "It's Rachel. Rachel is the girl you're in love with, isn't she?" As Quinn looked down and clutched her bicep with her opposite hand, rubbing her skin nervously and biting her lip, Judy sobered enough to say seriously, "That's why this isn't just dinner."

Quinn nodded, wanting to cry for a reason that she didn't quite understand.

Her mother took sympathy on her and walked further into her daughter's bedroom, resting a hand on the young woman's back as she glanced at the multitude of clothes laid out across the bed with a skilled eye. She reached forward and plucked an a-line, three-quarter sleeve, wine-colored dress and held it up to Quinn's shoulders.

"This one," Ms. Fabray said with certainty. "It's a lovely color on you and it makes your eyes pop. We'll curl your hair a little." Judy ran her fingers through Quinn's short locks of honey blonde. "You won't need more than a touch of make-up, you're already so beautiful." She pressed a lasting kiss to her daughter's temple, and held Quinn's face in her hands. "My beautiful, smart, grown up baby girl." She released Quinn with a look of nostalgia on her features. "Get dressed. Dinner will be just fine."

The older Fabray was almost to the door when Quinn called after her, "Mom." Judy turned to look at her and Quinn smiled gratefully and told her sweetly, "I love you."

"I love you too, Quinnie. And so will Rachel."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I hope you're right."

"I am. I'm your mother."

. . .

_**"Rachel Barbra Berry, as your**_ father who loves you very much, I am ordering you to stop _right now_!" Leroy yelled at her. Something he did not do often.

"What if it's a disaster? What if Quinn is uncomfortable? What if Ms. Fabray doesn't approve of me? What if–" Rachel was abruptly cut off as her other dad stuck his head into the room.

"Leroy, is she _still_ 'what if'-ing about dinner?" Hiram asked accusatorially to both his husband and his child. He looked at his daughter, "Rachel, pumpkin, why is it _such_ a big deal? It's not as if Quinn is your–"

"Of course she's not!" Rachel snapped with an uncharacteristic bite in her voice. She paused for a moment before blushing profusely and turning back to the kitchen counter. She could _hear_ her dads piecing it all together.

"Rachel, honey, . . . have you developed a 'crush' on Quinn Fabray?" her daddy, Hiram, asked cautiously.

Rachel let out a heavy sigh and braced herself against the counter before she faced her fathers once more. "Look, I know what you're going to say; that Quinn isn't like me, that she comes from a strict, conservative, Christian background, that she's already put me through so much and it's unreasonable and unhealthy to have such feelings for her, that I shouldn't expect her to return them." The small aspiring actress lowered her head defeatedly. "Trust me, I've gone over every conceivable reason not to feel this way about her, and every possible scenario that it could end badly. But I can't help how I feel and I refuse to give up my budding friendship with her, when she may in fact need it the most, because of my own selfish desires. Therefore, we can forget that you ever stumbled upon this melancholy realization, and move on with each of our lives without bias."

The Berry men looked between themselves with identical smirks, before looking back to their girl.

"Actually, we were going to say that it makes sense," Leroy concluded simply. Rachel gave him the most bewildered look he had ever seen.

Hiram pointed to the oven and added, "And you're eggplant parmesan is burning!"

The diva spun around on her heel and looked inside the oven through the glass, where the meal she had spent the better part of her afternoon making, was, in fact, now on fire. Both of her father's shouted, "No!" simultaneously as she was about to open the oven door and she remembered – duh, air plus fire equals bigger fire.

Hiram pushed Rachel out of the way and Leroy got the fire extinguisher from the closet, and Rachel stood back with tears in her eyes as her dads put out the fire and removed the foamy charcoal remnants of dinner from the oven.

All three of them stopped as they heard the slamming of two car doors and the sound of voices permeating the rainy late-fall air outside. Rachel felt the tears that she had been holding back begin to slip from her eyes as her heart seemed to shatter inside of her and, for the first time in her entire life, she couldn't pull in a breath.

Hiram saw the look on his daughter's face. "Rachel, pumpkin . . . " he trailed off as Rachel spun on her heel and bolted from the kitchen in tears.

She ran through the living room and straight through the front door just as the Fabray women were approaching the doorstep. She barely heard Quinn's questioning, "Rachel?" before she sprinted out onto the street and kept running, the pouring rain mixing with her salty tears until she couldn't tell the difference.

. . .

_**Quinn's eyes widened as she**_ looked between her mother and the front door that Rachel had left open when she burst through it just a moment ago. One thought was on her mind: _What the _hell_ had happened to make Rachel so upset?_

She knocked on the doorjamb before entering the Berry home cautiously. "Mr. and Mr. Berry? Hello?" she called.

Two men came out of, what must have been, the kitchen; a bespectacled man covered in a white foamy substance with a charred shirt sleeve, and another with curly who was trying to hide a fire extinguisher behind his back and look nonchalant. Quinn saw a little bit of Rachel in either of them, which was kind of odd given that only _one_ of them could have been related biologically to her brunette star.

"Um, _ahem_, h-hi! You must be Quinn and Judy," the curly-haired man greeted them. "I'm Leroy," – he pointed to the taller bespectacled man beside him – "this is my husband, Hiram. I apologize for my distance, I would shake your hand, but . . .." He shook back his blackened sleeve to reveal a heat blistered hand.

"Oh my!" Judy exclaimed, stepping forward slightly to examine it. She glanced up at the man before she reached for him, "May I? I work as a receptionist for the local doctor's office and I've picked up a few tricks."

Leroy, though seemingly surprised, responded graciously with, "Please, of course. Be my guest. It would be greatly appreciated."

As her mother set to work on one Mr. Berry's hand, Quinn turned to the other. "Mr. Berry? What happened to Rachel? I saw her run out. Is she alright?"

The man held up a hand to placate her. "Please, Quinn, call me Leroy," he offered. His gaze turned solemn as he glanced to the still-open door, "I believe Rachel may be a tad upset by the situation in which we Berrys have found ourselves in."

Quinn raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Rachel got– ah– _preoccupied,_ you might say, and burned dinner. One thing you'll learn about our star, Quinn?" Leroy stared hard at the front door. "She's an actress in every sense of the word. She _acts_ like nothing gets to her, she _acts_ happy, and she _acts_ as if everything is always okay. But even Barbra herself needs downtime from her craft, just like Rachel."

Quinn smiled softly, not because she found it humorous, but because Leroy was telling her things that she already knew all too well about his daughter. Rachel wasn't like her, she couldn't hold everything in until she exploded vindictively; no, Rachel held things in until she didn't have the energy to hold up her brave front or even care who saw it – and her – fall apart. Rachel was a real person, she was honest to a fault and she spoke her mind regardless of the consequences. And that was one of the things that never ceased to make Quinn fall in love with her all over again.

Gently touching Leroy's forearm to bring him from his own reverie, Quinn nodded to the light voices of carefree conversation in the next room. "I'm gonna go find Rachel," she told the man reassuringly. "It's in the script for someone to go after the star."

Leroy smiled in understanding as Quinn left the house in search of Rachel and he went into the kitchen.

. . .

_**The rain had almost stopped**_ as Quinn wandered the streets of the Berrys' neighborhood in search of her friend. The sun was beginning to fight its way back through the storm clouds, just in time for it to begin setting in the sky, and steam rolled off the pavement as the chilly raindrops simmered on the warm black tar. The air was crisp and cool, but still without a breeze to make it cold.

Then, coming across a playground in the middle of a cul-de-sac main road, Quinn spotted a familiar figure sitting hunched over on one of the picnic tables, shoulders shaking slightly. She grimaced at the sight. Seeing Rachel cry killed her.

She sat down next to the brunette gently, the tabletop only barely dampening the seat of her dress (thank, God). "C'mere, Rachel," she whispered, pulling her friend into her and wrapping her arms around the small girl as Rachel cried. "Ssh, it's okay. Everything is alright."

"No, it's not," Rachel sobbed. "It's a disaster. I tried to make everything perfect but it just . . ."

Quinn chuckled under her breath. "_Nothing_ is ever perfect, Rach. Things never end up the way you plan, no matter how hard you try. But sometimes, they turn out even better."

"Give me an example," Rachel demanded, starting to relax into Quinn's supportive arms.

"Easy," Quinn returned, accepting the challenge with zeal. "Rachel, _we_ – you and I – _are_ the example." Rachel lifted her head to look at Quinn curiously and the blonde continued to clarify, "I spent years trying so hard not to be your friend, Rach.  
"But the only plans that ever really turn out the way they're supposed to are God's plans. And I'm grateful for that, because if He'd have let me have my way, I would have been all alone. But instead, His plan gave me you, and that's just so much better than anything I had planned for myself."

Rachel looked at her for a long time. "You really mean that, don't you?" she said knowingly.

Quinn smiled and got up, reaching her hand out to Rachel. "Come on, let's go back to your house. Your dads and my mom have probably figured out whether or not we're going to be having dinner together in the ER or not by now," the blonde joked, but Rachel grimaced. "If we aren't, you and I can start dinner over together. Hopefully this time nothing will go up in flames."

Rachel glowered at Quinn as they began walking back to the Berrys' hand in hand. "Are you making fun of me, Quinn Fabray?" she demanded defensively.

The blonde smirked warmly and squeezed her hand as they walked through the late-October air. "Maybe."

_::~::_

_We're crashing  
Into the unknown  
We're lost in this  
But it feels like home_

_Looking at you, holding my breath,  
For once in my life ,I'm scared to death,  
I'm taking a chance, letting you inside.  
Feeling alive all over again,  
As deep as the sky, under my skin  
Like being in love, she says  
For the first time  
Maybe I'm wrong,  
But I'm feeling right where I belong  
With you tonight  
Like being in love  
To feel for the first time_

_::~::_


	4. For The First Time pt 2

**Title: For The First Time; part 2**

**Author: CobaltBlue94 (aka H.J.)**

**Rating: T+**

**Summary: Continuation of FTFT part 1**

**A.N. – So, this was originally meant to be a one-shot in the series of Q&R. Then I got a beautiful review from thatdamnyank about an idea for a continuation and it was just so brilliant that I had to write it. So you have him/her to thank for this, which is why this chapter is dedicated to him/her. **

**For The First Time; Part II**

::~::

_And it feels like the first time  
Like it never did before  
Feels like the first time  
Like we've opened up the door  
Feels like the first time  
Like it never will again, never again  
Feels like the first time, it feels like the first time_

_It feels like the very first time_

_::~::_

"The girls have been gone a long time. You don't think Quinn might have not been able to find Rachel, do you?" Leroy voiced worriedly as he sat at the kitchen table – his hand expertly taken care of by one Judy Fabray – with his husband and Judy.

Smirking at knowing that Quinn might be furious with her for voicing this aloud, Judy slyly replied, "I don't think Quinn will ever have any trouble when it comes to finding Rachel. They have a connection, clearly a sort of sixth sense for one another."

Hiram and Leroy exchanged identical looks of pleasant surprise and cunning; however, this was Judith Quinn-Fabray, and a certain amount of caution had to be maintained in case they were reading too much into her comment. It was made obvious from their first telephone conversation that Judy was nothing like her ex-husband, but to insinuate that their daughter might have feelings for hers was an entirely different thing all together.

"Quinn seems like she's matured quite a lot in a small amount of time," Leroy lent experimentally. "She clearly cares about Rachel, admittedly more than we thought possible. We underestimated her, but Rachel was always spot-on about Quinn, that's for sure."

The blonde smiled, picking up on what the Berry men were trying to imply with discretion. She laid her hands on the table in front of her, the middle-aged woman's fingers seeming bare without a ring, and Judy stared at them for a long time, rubbing the slight impression that years of wearing her wedding band had left her with.

Her throat constricted slightly and she cleared it before going on, "Rachel's a very intelligent young woman. You've raised her to see the best in people, even when it's been well-concealed for a long time.  
"As much as I'm ashamed to admit it," Judy began with thick emotion in her voice, "my daughter wasn't raised that way. If I had had a clear head in my marriage, if I had played a more proactive part in determining the morals that she was raised with, things might have been much different. _Quinn_ might have been much different, much more like Rachel perhaps; but I let my husband raise Quinn with prejudice and judgment and reservation in love, to become cold and spiteful – hateful – to anyone who didn't live with the same values as her."

Judy met the stares of the men who regarded her both with sympathy and with caution, as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks. She normally didn't show emotion in front of other people, similarly to her daughter, but this was important. "Quinn's slowly changed since Rachel's become a part of her life. Even more so since they've become friends. Quinn's more honest and forthcoming now; my daughter talks to me about what's going on in her life, she comes to me for support and comfort. And she _smiles_, and it's the most amazing thing in the world to see her genuinely smile after everything. And she smiles because of your daughter. She loves her."

Again the Berry men exchanged telepathic looks, as if the conversation going on in each of their heads was privy only to the other, and they came to the same conclusion: to proceed with caution.

Hiram turned back to Judy, a look of subtle surprise and questioning (one noticeably reminiscent of his daughter's ever-friendly expression) on his face. "Mrs. Fabray. . ." he trailed, but the older blonde stopped him.

"Please, call me Judy. I haven't been 'Mrs. Fabray' in a long time," she told him, her tone indicating that this was more of a mandatory, rather than optional, suggestion. "And, yes, I believe you are understanding what I'm implying."

"And you're. . . accepting. . . of this?"

"Quinn is my daughter. As her mother, I made a promise to her the day she was born, to love and accept her unconditionally. I haven't done very well in keeping that promise before, but I have every intention of doing so from now on."

"Yes," Leroy mumbled slowly, "but are you accepting of _this_? Of this. . . life, that Quinn would be choosing if. . . if she decided to embraced this?"

Very seriously, Judy stared at both of Rachel's fathers, her intimidatingly severe gaze flickering between the two of them. "Absolutely, yes. I don't think you understand what I mean when I tell you that Quinn is _happy_," Judy told them in all solemnity, but her hazel stare softened now and she sat back a bit in her seat. She went on, "What you really have to understand is that Quinn has never been _truly_ happy. Ever. She's pretended to be happy, put on a smile and built an image of being 'fine', but she's never been _genuinely_ happy. Until now, and that has an awful lot to do with your daughter.  
"Which is exactly why I've decided to meddle."

"Define. . . 'meddling'. . .," Hiram prompted slowly. His was cautious, but his eyes were hopeful.

Judy folded her hands and looked at the two men with a mischievous smirk. "Heaven knows Rachel would never expect Quinn to have these type of feelings for her, and Quinn, despite putting on a good show of it, is neither the bravest nor the most forthcoming person to be known," Judy reasoned respectively. Her eyebrows pulled together pensively. "I have no intentions of setting them up or putting either of them on the spot, but it would be nice if they were. . . given the push they need."

As they walked along the quiet streets of the Berrys' neighborhood, Quinn had never relinquished her hold on Rachel's hand and, as it had gotten colder and chilled her wet clothing, Quinn's warm hand felt blissful in her cold one. Everything about Quinn was making Rachel feel better this evening. Well, aside from the fact that she was still shivering.

The blonde pulled them to a stop with a deep frown on her extraordinarily beautiful face, and Rachel suddenly felt self-conscious. _Did Quinn not want to be seen with her anymore?_

"What?" Rachel asked hesitantly.

"You're still shivering," Quinn replied with concern. She lifted her lithe fingers to touch Rachel's cheek, "You're freezing, Rachel! C'mere." The blonde beauty shrugged off her old Cheerios jacket and, despite Rachel's protests, wrapped it tightly around the brunette, pulling the sides closed and rubbing her hands up and down Rachel's arms.

Rachel studied Quinn's features while the girl tried to warm her up. Both of her trademark eyebrows were raised nearly into the line of her butter blonde hair. Her forehead and nose each crinkled in consternation, while her frown burrowed deep into the depths of her cheeks. Even those golden eyes, so full of focus and care and affection, became suddenly mesmerizing to Rachel, especially as they rose to meet Rachel's gaze.

It was a moment unlike any moment Rachel had ever experienced with anyone before, and it took her by awe. The only thing she could possibly compare it to was the feeling of standing under the bright lights of a stage and singing a powerful ballad into open space. It was the feeling of show-stopping, heart-swooning, content belonging, bright explosive fireworks, and electricity. It was powerful and raw and unexplained, and most of all, it was scary. A good scary, like walking into a haunted house after dark but knowing there was someone safe to hold your hand and protect you. It was -

"Rachel, are you okay?"

"Perfect," Rachel breathed. "Just . . . perfect."

Equal parts unnerved and excited by the way that Rachel was staring at her, Quinn put her arm around her smaller friend and used her free hand to hold the warm jacket closed as she steered Rachel toward her house. "Alright, perfect girl, let's get you back to your house and out of those clothes," Quinn muttered, clenching Rachel tighter when the girl shuddered again.

For Quinn, her comment had been innocent (okay, _mostly_ innocent), but for Rachel, it was anything but.

"We're back! And we come baring nourishment!" Quinn called into the quiet house.

She exchanged a look with Rachel that clearly meant, _Why is it so quiet?_ They could hear their parents in the other room, whispering quietly.

"Rachel almost froze to death," the blonde tried again.

"But don't worry! Quinn set me on fire and it warmed me right up!" Rachel yelled, teeth still chattering involuntarily, to no response.

Quinn shrugged and nodded toward the stairs. "Go take a hot shower and put on some dry, comfortable clothes," she told the freezing brunette firmly. "I'll go see diabolic schemes the parents are up to. We can eat when you come down."

The brunette looked hesitantly to the silent kitchen, and subconsciously squeezed Quinn's arm tighter. The blonde squeezed back, before engulfing Rachel's entire body in a hug. She couldn't help it, now that the Rachel Berry dam had broken, Quinn was helpless to resist the little star; and that seemed to be fine with Rachel, because she didn't let go.  
However, much Quinn wanted to stand there holding her though, Rachel was still shivering in damp, icy clothes, but the girl was like a statue and she wouldn't move.

Quinn leaned in carefully and ever-so-gently placed lips to Rachel frigid cheek. "You need to go upstairs and warm up, Rach," she whispered in the star's ear. "You're going to catch pneumonia or hypothermia or _something_, and you'll miss school and lose your perfect attendance record. Three years straight, right?" Quinn paused in thought, "Well, except for when you got laryngitis. . . and the last two periods of the day that Finn broke your nose."

Rachel looked at Quinn in amazement and awe. "H-how did you know that?" the starry-eyed girl breathed out.

"I listen to you when you talk," Quinn whispered back with a simple shrug.

The smaller girl looked down sadly. "I don't expect you to," she mumbled. "Finn doesn't even listen if he can help it."

"The boy breaks your nose and doesn't listen to you," Quinn scoffed loathingly. "Remind me again why you stayed with him for so long?" Her act of deprecation was broken by a bright smile in Rachel's direct.

"I thought he loved me," Rachel whispered. "I'd never had someone like Finn want _me_, I don't think I ever will again either." The brunette finally turned to the staircase and began climbing up the steps.

Thirteen. Thirteen steps and thirteen seconds that Quinn stood, watching Rachel walk away and wishing desperately that she had the courage to say what she was thinking, "_I'm not like Finn, but _I_ want you. _I_ love you, Rachel_". She wanted to rush up those stairs and barge into Rachel's room and declare her helpless, inescapable love for the brunette and kiss the girl until she was too senseless to object and get Rachel out of those cold, wet clothes and warm her with the fiery passion that was blazing in Quinn's lower abdomen and- _Whoa! Okay, Q, that's enough. You still have to spend the rest of the evening with her and __**your mother**__ and __**her fathers**__!_

Unfortunately, those images were already implanted in her brain, and the temptation to cycle through them on repeat was strong.

"Oh! Quinnie, hi!" her mother greeted her a little too brightly, and it was only then that she realized that she had wandered into the Berrys' kitchen. Judy looked at her in befuddlement. "Quinnie, your face is flushed, are you feeling alright?"

Quinn snapped back to, remembering that it was probably inappropriate to be running a reel of naked-Rachel images through her head while she was in the presence of Rachel's dads. She cleared her throat and turned back to her mother to hide her guilty face.

"Um, yeah! Yeah! I'm just turned- uh, tired!" she replied unconvincingly, causing her already red face to flush a purplish color. _Oh Lord, please don't let burn in hell for this,_ she prayed silently, before taking a calming breath and refocusing on the three expectant parents. "I found Rachel. She's upstairs now. . ."

_Getting all naked and steamy, _one of her inner voices intoned lasciviously.  
_Why aren't we up there with her?, _another agreed with equal want.  
_Shut up!_ the third, rational part of her snapped.

". . . getting changed. She ran through the rain and then, you know, November in Ohio after dark. . . and she got really cold," Quinn forced herself to say with a clear mind. "I, um, I gave her my jacket to try and keep her as warm as possible, but she was still pretty cold."

Hiram grinned. "That was very sweet of you, Quinn. I'm sure it made Rachel feel much better," he said in a tone that Quinn couldn't quite place, but it definitely made her feel awkward.

Like a sign from God Himself, Quinn felt her arms becoming heavy and she glanced down to find the pizza boxes that she and Rachel had picked up on their way back. "Oh! And we got vegan pizza from that little Italian place on the corner of Mill Street."

"Quinn was nice enough to buy," came a small voice from the door.

The blonde whirled around to see Rachel step toward them from the doorway, wearing a mauve-colored, sleeved dress that fell at her knees and seemed to hug her body in all the right places.

_What I wouldn't give to be that dress right now_, Quinn's suggestive id voiced internally.

"You look beautiful," was what ended up being said aloud, and as four sets of eyes turned on her, Quinn almost wished she had gone with the other comment. That one she could have at least covered u;, with this one there weren't enough mad-libs in the world to make it seem accidental.

Judy seemed to sense the mortification that her daughter was exuding and decided to back her up. "She's right. You look absolutely lovely, dear. That's an excellent color on you," the older blonde piped up. With genuine concern, she asked, "Are you feeling better now? Quinn mentioned you were quite chilled."

"I'm much better now," Rachel assured the elder Fabray. Rachel's demeanor changed when she did 'that thing' where she blushed and looked down while tucking her curtain of umber hair behind her left ear (okay, so Quinn didn't _just_ 'listen'). "Thank you," the brunette murmured softly, her luscious brown eyes glancing up to Quinn's shyly. "For everything."

Feeling very much like a giant spotlight had been turned on her, Quinn nodded and smiled the best she could. "It was nothing. Just. . . doing what you would have done for me. What you've always done for me."

Rachel beamed and skipped forward, knocking her elbow against Quinn's playfully. "See? Now you're catching on," she giggled. Her smile and tone were still just as bright, but the expression in her eyes shifted, "Took you long enough."

". . . _My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever. If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love- I love- I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day_ _on._"

"You really do know every single line of this movie, don't you?"Rachel asked as she watched Quinn recite the lines word-for-word.

Rachel sat on her couch nearby Quinn, tucked under a Wicked throw fleece that her dads had gotten her for Chanukah last year, watching a movie while their parents played bridge in the other room. Rachel couldn't help but think this moment was pretty close to perfect.

Quinn laughed out loud. "This movie is pretty much _my_ equivalent of Funny Girl," she explained, eyes shining brightly as they regarded Rachel. "I've been watching it since before I could actually understand what they were saying, and I've read the book at least three times."

"What makes you love it so much?" Rachel asked curiously, no ill-feeling meant toward the movie.

The blonde paused in thought and she was quiet for a long time, while Rachel simply admired the shifting emotions in Quinn's hazel eyes, the way the graceful plains of her face creased and crinkled in pensiveness, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed regularly. It was strange seeing this Quinn, so serene and at ease and comfortable, and remembering the Quinn Fabray of sophomore year, the girl who had despised her in a most intent and almost calculative way.

When she brought up the image of that Quinn and compared it to the girl sitting on the other side of the L-shaped sofa, she could see the corporeal changes in the blonde; her face had aged ever so slightly from the stressful situations she had soldiered through and the sleepless nights she had endured , but her head was held high in well-deserved pride.

"I can relate to them, I guess," Quinn finally replied to Rachel's question. "It's such a different time period, and watching it is like stepping into a different world, but I see the characters and I don't feel so alone."

Rachel's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Wow, this _is_ your Funny Girl," she confirmed. "That's exactly how Barbra makes me feel." Both girls shook their heads in quiet laughter, until Rachel finally said, "You know, Quinn, you've made tonight really memorable-"

"I think you might have done that yourself by _taking- off- into- the __**pouring rain**_," Quinn emphasized disapprovingly.

Ducking her head in admonishment, Rachel mumbled, "Yeah, sorry about that."

"As you were saying. . ." Quinn pressed on with an eye-roll.

Rachel looked up with excited eyes, knowing that Quinn wasn't really upset with her. "There's really only one thing that's bothering me," the diva finished, willing Quinn to question her in response.

Never one to disappoint, Quinn tried to hide a smile as she asked, "Oh? And what's that 'one thing' that's bothering you, Rach?"

"That we're sitting here watching your favorite movie and you're _all the way_ over _there_," Rachel said succinctly, gesturing to the several feet that there was between them. Pouting with what she hoped was an adorable face, Rachel continued innocently, "And since I don't have Barbra to make me feel 'not so alone'. . ."

Quinn chuckled and tried failingly to hold back a laugh, before giving in and moving to sit in the spot right next to the brunette. Rachel lifted up the blanket so Quinn was covered with her, and leaned unreservedly into the blonde's side, molding their bodies together perfectly. Quinn tenderly ran her fingers through Rachel's dark hair and hummed quietly to the instrumentals in between the characters' lines, as Rachel basked in the moment.

"Rach?"  
"Yes?"  
"You make me feel even more 'not so alone', and it's the first time another person has made me feel that way."  
"Quinn."  
"Yeah. . .?"  
"You do realize that I'm never going to let you be alone from this day on, right?"  
"And I'm okay with that."

_::~::_

_And when something happens  
That words can't define  
Only then do you know you're in love  
For the very first time_

_::~::  
_


End file.
